Loud voices filling your ears, except they were muffled and sounded more like a buzz, feeling dizzy as it felt like the whole world was moving forward without you, while you were stuck in one place, your feet glued down to the floor. You couldn't move. You did not want to move. You felt like you were drowning, and no one was there to help. You were drowning in the sea of your own angst, and every second, you were falling deeper, deeper, and deeper. Standing outside of the emergency room, heart pounding as hot, fiery tears of fury and helplessness built up behind your eyes. He was gone. Jaemin was gone. Your best friend. You'd never see him again. You couldn't help him. You failed to help him. You ran out of that hospital, and never came back. And you never would.

Every single day since that day, you blamed yourself for his tragic death. Your fault. Your fault. It was all your fault. Those voices ran through your head, and you couldn't fight them. They wouldn't go, no matter what, no matter how many therapy appointments you had. Nothing could help you forget.

Sitting at your desk in school, a rainy day in September. The voices had faded, but they were still there. Without a doubt. Something happened that you would have never expected. A boy, Jeno Lee, walked into your classroom. You weren't really listening, but as the teacher introduced him, a few words registered in your mind.

"New student."

...

"...South Korea..."

...

Your head raised out of slight curiosity. This boy...something about him. You had no idea what, but...something of this boy's nature reminded you of Jaemin. Several pangs hit your heart as you realized you felt a strong need to protect this boy. To befriend him. To keep him safe.

After a few rainy and cloudy months, you did it. You had become close to him. You knew more about him. He told you all of his darkest secrets and deepest wishes. He was the sweetest boy. It was bizarre how much he reminded you of Jaemin. You were grateful. Grateful to the angels and gods. Grateful to him for moving here. He had to be a gift, sent down from the angels after they knew how much Jaemin meant to you. They sent a boy like him.

Just for you.

Yet another rainy, cloudy early evening, you were walking home after grabbing food from a restaurant. Your mouth watered at the smell of Korean fried chicken and rice, stuffed inside a tiny paper bag with grease stains on it.

Walking past an alleyway, you heard pained sounds and pants. You decided to take a look, instantly regretting it.

It was Jeno.

He was bruised and bleeding, letting out small noises of pain, clutching his stomach. Tears of pain and frustration filled his eyes until they spilled over his cheeks.

You dropped your food, running over to him.

You had to protect him. You failed again..